benson's bad wording

“No, you don’t. How could you possibly know? There is no coming back from what I’ve done. No forgiveness for my crimes.”

The school year was coming to an end and I was busying myself with spring sports. I was doing track and field, distance events like the 1,500-meter run. I also tried my hand at pole vaulting, which did not go well. I had to quit vaulting before I really hurt myself. One particularly grueling Friday at practice, I noticed Mrs. B. in the bleachers watching. Faculty often wandered out to watch teams practice or play, but Mrs. B was rarely among them. She lingered when the practice was over, so I went over to say hi. She seemed genuinely happy to see me, even though she had been quite aloof in class or in the hallway.

“Thanks, Mom!” I purred, kissing her on her lips. She tried to resist, but only for a second or two before she gave in and started kissing me back. It felt so different, kissing her instead of Daddy! She was softer, more gentle. I liked it... maybe not quite as much as I did Daddy's more forceful style, but still, it felt really good! I kinda regretted it, actually, when I had to pull away, but she deserved to be taken care of, too. I detoured to her breasts on the way down, sucking hungrily on her thick, erect nipples, making her gasp. She moaned, arching her back and running her fingers through my hair, pulling me tighter into her soft, yielding flesh. I couldn't help but giggle at her reaction, and to give her a few teasing little nibbles as well. I wondered, with her titties and nipples both being so much bigger than mine, if that meant they were more sensitive as well? It wasn't something I could directly test, but it sure seemed that way. Then I moved down again, and though her eyes were wide and she was nervously biting her lip, she opened her thighs eagerly enough. I made myself go slow, teasing and exploring, savouring my first ever experience with a pussy other than my own. She tasted good, just like I did, only maybe a little more concentrated and strong. That was probably just because I could only taste myself on my fingers or Daddy's cock, I figured, never directly from the source. I started getting more into it, kissing and sucking, flicking and playing with her lips with the tip of my tongue. She was quite a bit meatier than I was, which I kinda liked; it meant I could really pull and nibble on them, which she really seemed to love.